Died Young, Stayed Pretty
by The Last Letter
Summary: In Allison's last moments, she realizes that beauty isn't all it's cracked up to be, and she'd rather be able to see eighty than die young and stay beautiful.


Death wasn't beautiful. It's not like in the movies, with the dramatic, slipping to the ground, beautiful eyes closing, delicate hand coated in blood as it lay softly over the wound. No, death wasn't like that. It wasn't beautiful, and it certainly wasn't romantic.

It was painful.

She had always thought of death as a fleeting caress, taking you to a more beautiful place, but death took a long time, and she had never thought it would come so soon. Sure, she had talked about being forever young, and forever beautiful, but she knew what happened to bodies after they went underground. _That_ wasn't beautiful. None of it was.

First of all, the betrayal? Not pretty at all. No one betrayed her, Allison DiLaurentis. She was young, she was pretty, she was _loved_. People like her didn't get killed off in the very beginning! People like her breezed through it all, looking pretty, and perky and perfect. People like her were worshipped by all, people like her, well, who was she kidding? There was no one like her.

But, as much as the betrayal hurt, the knife wound hurt more. It tore through her skin, her pale, perfect skin. It ripped into her insides, the silver blade did. She felt like it tore into her very soul, tearing that into shreds. Pain spread from her abdomen through her body, as the knife was removed.

Remember that graceful glide to the ground? She didn't achieve that. Not at all. She, who was usually as graceful as a dancer, crumpled to the ground. Her head ached from where it hit. The entire thing pained her. The ground seemed to hum as she hit it, gravity throwing her to the ground. She felt like Hana, Hefty Hana.

Another lie, when you go to grab at your wound, it isn't slow, not perfectly dramatic, it's a swift swat, like diving for a fly. Your hand forces itself down, making a slap sound that you wished you hadn't heard, just because it makes everything then becomes more painful. Oh, and that dramatic loud breathing? That doesn't happen either. You just couldn't breathe, not at all.

She looked to her hand, covering her broken flesh, at the blood that spilled out between her manicured fingers. It wasn't red, but a dark, evil crimson, that looked almost black. She began to feel shaky all over, like she was turning to jello. She looked to the one who had done this to her, and brought herself to a new low. She begged.

_"Please, don't let me die. I don't deserve to die. Please."_

She recieved silence in return. She didn't deserve this, not at all. Sure, she'd manipulated a few people, done her fair share of sneering and teasing, but she was a teenage girl, not a demon. No matter what she had done, it had never been done without proper cause. She wasn't heartless, she wasn't a bitch, she wasn't _evil_. She didn't deserve to die. Not like this.

Last lie: your whole life doesn't flash before your eyes.

She kept waiting for it, she truly did, but it never came, only one haunting conversation kept coming back to her. She had been foolish, so very foolish, to think that it was a good idea to die young. She didn't think to the past, but to the future. What she would never, could never, have now. A life cut short, well, she'd be the centre of attention in little Rosewood, that's for sure. They would all cry for poor little Ali DeLaurentis. Wetness coated her cheeks. Even she was crying for poor little Ali DeLaurentis. Poor little Ali DeLaurentis.

The surrounding blackness began to take over, and she knew that her last breath was drawing near. At least that part was true, a person could feel it, deep into the core of their very being, when it was about it happen. She wished that she could go back in time, stay snuggled in with the girls. She shouldn't have come out tonight, but, it was what she wanted, and she always did what she wanted. Except for this, she didn't want this. She wanted life, she wanted age, she wanted to see the years pass by.

If she couldn't have that, and it was obvious she couldn't, she could only think about how she would remain in Rosewood history forever. After all, that's immortality, my darlings.

**Not exactly sure how Ali died, but we're going with stabbing. :) I do not own **_**Pretty Little Liars**_**. I hope you enjoyed.**

**~DI4MGZ~**


End file.
